Dark Night for the Dark Knight
by Lil' Candy
Summary: Superman is convinced Batman is going through an emotional crisis. Batman wants to be left alone, permanently.
1. Chapter 1

"You can't keep pulling these kinds of stunts, Batman. You're gonna get yourself killed. You're not . . ."

". . . Superman," Batman said to the Man of Steel. Superman sighed.

"That's not what I was going to say. I just . . . I just worry about you."

"Why don't you worry about someone who needs it," Batman said. He

moved to leave, but a sudden pain in his side stopped him. Not being prepared for the pain he did not do a good job of hiding it, which would have been his strategy.

"You see, you're hurt. I'm taking you to the infirmary."

Normally Batman would have protested and taken himself back to the Batcave to heal, but Superman had already scooped the Dark Knight up in his arms and was flying slowly down the hall so as not to disrupt Batman's injuries.

Upon examination, it was discovered that Batman had two broken ribs. Considering what he had gone through it was relatively good news. Superman and Wonder Woman scolded him for being so reckless with his health, but Batman ignored them. It was bad enough he would here the same argument from Alfred when he saw him. His colleagues left him to rest in the infirmary, but after a few moments (moments taken to make sure Superman, Wonder Woman, J'onn, and anyone else who would have insisted that he get back into bed were gone) Batman decided to go do some computer work, after all, that wouldn't bother his ribs. When Batman opened the door, there was Superman floating in the doorway, blocking his path.

"I knew you wouldn't stay resting," said Superman.

"I'm only going to do some work at the computer," said Batman, hating that he felt the need to justify himself. Superman floated back to the ground.

"You shouldn't even be standing Bruce, let alone working."

"I know how to take care of myself, thank you. I've had broken ribs before."

"Which is exactly why you need to rest and not re-injure them." Batman glared while he thought of his options. Superman didn't appear to be going anywhere and Batman couldn't physically move him. His only option was to talk Superman into leaving him alone, but at the moment that option seemed about as fruitful as trying to physically move him. Superman softened his tone and continued speaking. "Batman, please get back into bed."

"Fine," Batman said. He turned and unhappily climbed into the bed. Superman would have liked if Batman had eaten something, but he recognized his victory and didn't want to push Batman any further.

"Good night, Bruce," said Superman, but Batman did not answer. Superman silently left the room and waited around outside the door, to make sure Batman stayed in bed. Batman, however, was too smart to do the same thing twice. He lied in his bed and silently fumed. Batman hated not being in control of a situation and he especially hated resting, especially when he knew he was fine. He wasn't one hundred percent, but that had never stopped him before. And then there were the others, especially Superman. They were always, concerned about his health. Batman never did anything they wouldn't do; it was just that Batman didn't have super strength, super speed, a power ring, telepathy, shape-shifting ability, or the ability to fly. He was just working on what God gave him. Yet, he felt like he was being treated like a child or an invalid. He wasn't as physically powerful as the other Justice League members, but he had proven over and over he could hold his own. Why did the others expect him to ask for their help, every time he was in a dangerous situation? He knew how to handle himself, and anyone else that came along. Batman drifted to sleep having very unkind thoughts about his co-workers.


	2. Chapter 2

When Batman awoke, Superman was next to his bed arranging a breakfast tray on a table. Batman also noticed some unfamiliar pink flowers on that same table.

"Good morning. I brought you breakfast. Do you like the flowers? Wonder Woman arranged them and brought them in last night with you're dinner, but you were already asleep, so she just left the flowers."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"About sixteen hours."

"You should have woken me."

"The world wasn't in peril, Batman. Besides I'm glad you slept, you probably needed the rest. How do your ribs feel?"

"Fine."

"That's good. Here, eat your breakfast," said Superman. Batman considered not eating simply out of spite, but he recognized how childish the act would have been. He was also very hungry. So he began to eat the food Superman had brought him. He noticed after a few moments that Superman did not seem to be leaving or preparing to leave.

"Are you going to watch me eat?" asked Batman.

"I just thought I'd keep you company for a while."

"What makes you think I want company?"

"Batman, why do you have to turn everything into a battle? My friend is hurt and I want to make sure he's okay. Is that a crime?" said Superman. Batman sighed and leaned back in the know propped up bed. He was staring at the ceiling. Batman was tempted to tell Superman that they weren't friends, but something stopped him. Something that wanted to spare Superman's feelings and something that knew the statement would be completely false. As much as Batman did his best to push people away, somehow he had friends. "Batman what's wrong? You've been more unfriendly than usual, and for you that's saying a lot. What is going on with you?"

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"I wish you'd stop saying that."

"What?"

"Fine. We both know you aren't fine. Something is bothering you, and I wish you trusted me enough to let me know what it is," said Superman.

"I'm going back to sleep. Get out," said Batman. A look of disappointment washed over Superman.

"I'll be back later," said Superman, as he got up and left the room. This time he didn't wait around Batman's door.

Batman sat still in bed. Superman was right, something was bothering him, but he wasn't ready to admit what it was. He felt badly about hurting Superman's feelings (something else he wouldn't admit), and then he felt badly about feeling badly. He was completely aware of how childish he was acting as he sat all alone pouting with his arms crossed. "I have to get out of here," Batman thought to himself.

Meanwhile on the other side of the Watchtower, Superman ran into Flash.

"What's wrong Supes? You look down," asked Flash.

"Something's wrong with Batman and he won't say what it is. And trying to get him to open up has been draining, with no success."

"I can't say I'm surprised, Batman doesn't exactly wear his heart on his sleeve. I'm starting to wonder if he has one to wear."

"He has one, Flash. He may try to deny it, but he has one. He wouldn't do what he does if he didn't."

"Try saying that three times fast," said Flash. Superman smiled, which was Flash's objective. "So how can you tell something's wrong with Bats?"

"Well, he's been more closed off than usual. And considering how closed off he is generally, that could be dangerous."

"Now that you mention it. I have noticed something different about him. Whenever I make a joke he either cuts me off or tells me to pipe down, but lately, whatever I say, he pretty much just ignores. And that hurts. I mean, our relationship is based on me irritating him, if he just ignores me, I feel like our friendship will die."

"I think I know what you mean, Flash."

Batman was headed to the hanger. He was glad he had taken the Batjet and not the Javelin otherwise he would have had to bring someone that could fly the Javelin back. When the elevator to the hanger opened up Green Lantern stood in the middle of it. Batman kind of liked Green Lantern, as far as he could like anyone that is. Lantern or G.L., as he was affectionately called, did not annoy Batman as much as the other Leaguers. His main objective was getting the job done, and Batman liked that. Although Batman did feel Lantern was too personal at 'work' sometimes. He dated Hawkgirl, their teammate, which Batman thought was unwise. Also, he had no secret identity, it was widely known that John Stewart was the Green Lantern; Batman didn't know how he felt about that. However, it was Lantern's life and he could make his own decisions. When Lantern looked up from the clipboard he was holding, he spoke.

"Batman," he said with mild surprise in his voice, "from what Superman said, I thought you'd still be recuperating."

"I heal fast," said Batman as he stepped in to the elevator and Lantern stepped out. Lantern tried to say something more, but Batman had already shut the elevator doors and was headed down to the hanger. Green Lantern shrugged his shoulders and proceeded to the main room of the Watchtower. Superman and Flash were already there.

"Hey, G.L.," said Flash.

"Hello, Flash, Superman," said Lantern as he nodded to the two men.

"Hello, Lantern. I hope that's not bad news you're holding," said Superman.

"No, this is just follow-up on the crime syndicate we busted up. They're all over at Riker's Island being processed."

"That's good," said Flash.

"I just passed Batman. I was going to tell him about it, considering how instrumental he was in stopping them, but I guess he was in a hurry."

"Wait, where did you pass Batman?" asked Superman.

"Elevator. I was getting off while he was getting on. He was headed down, I guess he was either going to the lab or the hanger," answered Lantern.

"I can't believe him," said Superman as he walked off to find Batman and put him back to bed. "I'll strap him to that bed if I have to," Superman said to himself. Superman was too late. Batman had taken off and was headed back to Gotham City. Superman couldn't help but feel hurt. All he wanted to do was help Batman, so why was "Bats" being so difficult. _Why does he act this way?_


	3. Chapter 3

Batman was feeling restless when he returned to the Batcave. He was in no shape to patrol, not that that had ever stopped him before, but he still didn't feel it was necessary. This feeling was very uncharacteristic for him. After an hour, Batman was literally pacing the Batcave. He decided to change and go to sleep for the night, something else incredibly uncharacteristic. But his restlessness followed him to his bedroom. When he was through tossing and turning in bed, he decided to swim. This activity was something he hadn't done in a long while. He went to the west wing of Wayne manor where the pool was on the first floor. It was the only thing that was not present when the old mansion was built. Bruce had actually grown to dislike it. It seemed out of place with everything else. He didn't even know why he kept paying the pool boy. He was always tempted to stop and just drain the thing, but he could never bring himself to do it. Batman found a swimsuit in the pool house and climbed in. At first, he simply sat in the shallow end and got used to the water. Then he swam around a little, but his injured ribs made it difficult. After a while, Bruce just floated on his back and thought of past events. The floating was very relaxing and it was easy on his ribs. Bruce's thoughts wandered until it settled on recent events.

A crime syndicate had set up in various cities in the country, but the headquarters was in Metropolis. Batman had been investigating them for a few months because they had ties in Gotham City; something he took very personally. When he realized how large the syndicate actually was, he grudgingly went to the Justice League with the information. Of course the Justice League was eager to stop the criminals; that is what they do best. So a sting operation was formed with Flash going undercover. Batman didn't like the idea of the operation depending on Flash, but he was the least recognizable figure among them. Batman would have rather gone himself, but it was too risky that he be recognized as billionaire Bruce Wayne. In the end, Hawkgirl accompanied Flash undercover. It was hell trying to figure out how to hide her wings. Flash didn't mind the intrusion or lack of confidence placed in him. He welcomed the idea of having another person to help him. It took months of phony and false leads to discover who the leaders of the organization were, and the Justice League actually never found out who the top dog was, but they did manage to take down the hands on leaders. This action crippled the syndicate. When it was discovered who the leaders actually were, the Justice League had to wait for the opportune time to capture them. There was lucky enough to be a kind of a summit of the top people in the syndicate, where the Justice League went in with both barrels. If there had not been that summit they would have had to capture the leaders all individually which ran the risk of others finding out they were being cornered before they could be apprehended. Batman remembered the night very clearly. Guns blazing, power rings, energy maces, and heat vision going off like gangbusters. They apprehended most of the top people and their flunkies. Batman and Wonder Woman searched the building for anyone left. They split up and Batman found a laptop with what he hoped would be evidence. Unfortunately, in the same room Batman found one left over goon trying to hide until the heat was gone. There was a fight of course, in which the laptop was destroyed. The goon pulled out a gun, but Batman was ready for him. One swift hand motion, and the gun was out of his hands. Then in one swift kick . . .

"Master Bruce?" asked Alfred.

Batman was so startled he lost his balance and sunk into the water. But being in the shallow end allowed him to stand up quickly and not drown. When Batman righted himself he answered his butler and long-time friend.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"Isn't it a little late for a swim?"

"I don't follow normal hours Alfred, you know that."

"Still, you have been acting rather strange lately. Is something wrong?"

"No."

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Yes I'm sure. Anything else you want to know?" said Batman. Alfred was a little taken aback by the curt reply. Batman was generally very curt, but this felt a little different. Alfred heard distinct hostility in Batman's voice, so he made a quick retreat.

Batman climbed out of the pool and dried himself off. He dragged himself to bed and actually got some sleep. The next few days were relatively mundane, except that no one had seen Batman at all. He didn't go patrolling, he didn't answer the Bat-signal, and he didn't answer any calls from the Justice League.


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce was sitting in his office working and having a relatively quiet day until he had a visitor in the middle of the afternoon.

"Mr. Wayne, someone is here to see you," buzzed a woman's voice from the intercom.

"Who is it, Zoe?" Bruce Wayne answered back.

"A Mr. Clark Kent, sir."

"Send him in," Bruce said, while he thought to himself, "Just what I need, super-meddling."

Clark Kent walked into Bruce's office and took a seat.

"Can I help you?" asked Bruce.

"Hello Bruce. Long time, no see. How are you?"

"Fine."

"There's that word again."

"Don't you have a story you need to be covering?"

"Nope."

"You're telling me there isn't one story in Metropolis that needs your attention?"

"Nope, not a one; but there is a friend in Gotham City who could use it, my attention that is."

"Well, tell you're friend I hope he or she feels better."

"Bruce."

"What?"

"Can I take you take you to lunch, or better yet, you could take me. You're the billionaire, after all."

"I'm very busy."

"You have to eat some time, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

"I gathered that. Fine, we can go to lunch. Be back here in an hour."

"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?" asked Clark.

"I don't know. You should have thought ahead, now get out."

"I love talking with you Bruce. You're always so sweet and polite. I'll see you in an hour." said Clark as he exited Bruce's office.

Bruce sighed. Maybe when Clark came back he could have him locked out of the building. No, he would just eat with Clark and hopefully get him to stop pestering him.

For lunch, Bruce and Clark dined at Pequeet, a nice soup, salad, and sandwich place built with a bakery in it. Pequeet was known for its bread. It smelled so good that Clark bought some rolls and a cookie on his way out. During their lunch, Clark made his best attempt to get Bruce to open up.

"I'm glad you agreed to eat with me," said Clark.

"I'm not paying for this," said Bruce.

Clark smiled and said, "That's fine. Do you have lunch here often?"

"Often enough."

"Well it's nice. I like it."

"I'm thrilled."

"There's no need for sarcasm, Bruce," said Clark, but Bruce Wayne said nothing. "Does pequeet mean anything?" asked Clark.

"What do you mean?"

"The word. Pequeet. Does it mean anything? Like in a foreign language?"

"I don't think so."

"Oh. It sounds like it should, mean something I mean. Or it sounds like something a canary would say. Pequeet. Pequeet."

"Was that you're canary impression?"

"Yes, would you like to hear me do Woody Woodpecker?"

"I'll pass."

"So Bruce, it feels like I haven't seen you in a long time. Where have you been?"

"Here, in Gotham."

"Have you been busy?"

"No."

"Are you taking a vacation? 'Cause there's nothing wrong with that if you feel you need to . . ."

"I'm not on a vacation," said Bruce and there was a pause in the conversation. Clark did not know what to say, but he wanted to keep communication between he and Bruce open. He decided to change the subject temporarily.

"How are your ribs?" asked Clark.

"Better."

"That's good. I was worried."

"There was nothing to worry about."

"I know, but still . . . we're friends. I worry."

"Hmmm."

"You know Bruce, I mean it when I say I worry about you. You seem so closed off all the time . . . so shut down. And lately I feel like . . . like you're slipping away."

"Slipping away?"

"Yeah, I don't want to lose you as a friend."

"That's a nice sentiment, Clark."

"I'm glad you think so, although I get the impression that you didn't mean that as a compliment."

"I'm fine, Clark. You don't have to worry about me."

"You keep saying that, but why aren't you acting fine?"

"What would you have me do, Clark?"

"I would like to see you smile once in a while, maybe even laugh."

"Hmm. Are you done?"

"Huh?"

"Are you done?"

"Oh," Clark said then looked at his plate, "I guess I am."

"Good," said Bruce as he pulled out his wallet.

"I thought you weren't paying for this?" said Clark.

"Force of habit," said Bruce as he put down enough money for his and Clark's meals. Bruce began putting on his coat, so Clark did the same. Clark couldn't help but be a little disappointed. He was glad that he got Bruce to go to lunch with him, but he wanted to find a way to help Bruce, and Clark still didn't know what was even bothering him.

Bruce and Clark's goodbye was brief, much to Clark's chagrin. Clark was disappointed. Try as he might he could not get through Bruce's defenses. "I guess decades of building them has made them super strong." Clark said to himself. However, neither Clark Kent, the award-winning investigative reporter, nor Superman, arguably the world's greatest superhero, would give up that easily.


	5. Chapter 5

_Why must Clark be so damn . . . nice all the time?_ Even Bruce had to admit he was touched by Clark's concern for him. Of course he was also annoyed by it and resented it. He didn't want to hurt Clark; he just couldn't go back after what had happened. Bruce couldn't go back after what he had done. He was so ashamed. "How could I have been so reckless? How could I have been so stupid? How could I . . ."

A knock on the door interrupted Bruce's thoughts. His secretary, Zoe, walked in and told him one of his appointments had been cancelled. He thanked her and she exited the room. The appointment that had been cancelled was at the end of the day, so Bruce took that opportunity to leave his office early.

Clark hadn't left Gotham after his lunch with Bruce. He was still hoping that he would find a way to get through to his friend. As he was walking and thinking he almost missed the fact that Bruce was on the other side of the street. Bruce appeared to be walking and thinking, also, and he was carrying roses. Clark was about to call out to him until he saw Bruce duck into a cemetery. Clark didn't know for sure, but he thought it was safe to assume that this was the cemetery where Bruce's parents were buried. Clark wasn't sure what to do. Should he follow Bruce in there? If he was going to visit his parents he might need a shoulder to cry on. But would that be invading on something way too personal. Bruce might resent the intrusion. In the end, Clark went into the cemetery. It wasn't hard to tell which grave belonged to the Wayne's. It was a very large bronze monument covering both graves. It also wasn't hard to pick out Bruce laying the bouquet of roses in front of the grave. Clark ducked behind a tree and continued to watch Bruce. Bruce was on his knees in front of his parents' gravesite. After a few moments, Bruce let the tears fall. He cried softly, but visibly. Clark was ashamed of himself for intruding on such a personal scene. Clark knew if his parents died that day he would be inconsolable, and he could not imagine losing them at such an early age, the way Bruce had. From where Clark was watching, he could see that Bruce was saying something. He was speaking to his parents about something and he was very upset. Clark could use his super-hearing to find out what Bruce was saying, but he decided it would be unethical. He had already made himself an interloper; he was not going to be an eavesdropper as well. Clark left the cemetery. He knew Bruce wouldn't notice him, as he was distracted by other things at the moment. Despite Clark feeling shameful about spying on Bruce at his parents' grave, the sight that he saw gave him more evidence that Bruce was going through some sort of emotional problem. Clark was more determined to figure out what that problem was and find a way to help solve it.


	6. Chapter 6

Bruce was at his parents' grave, having a conversation with them. He often visited their grave and at the moment he felt like they were the only ones he could talk to.

"Hello Mom and Dad. I brought you some flowers," said Bruce then he took a minute to just kneel there and say nothing. "I haven't had such an easy time recently. I did something . . . I did something I shouldn't have." Bruce's voice was beginning to crack, and he began to cry. When he regained a bit of his composure he continued to speak, although he did it through tears. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I've never been so ashamed. I know you must be ashamed of me, but I don't know how to make it right. I don't think I can make it right. I started this to do something good and now that I've done something . . . terrible, I don't know what to do. I feel like I should quit, but is it wrong to quit now. Should I make up for it? Can I make up for it? I don't know what to do. I wish you could help me. I'm so sorry . . . I'm so . . ." Bruce became too choked up to go on.


	7. Chapter 7

Clark went to work the next day and was confronted by Lois.

"So where were you yesterday?" asked Lois.

"I was with a friend," replied Clark.

"I knew it. While I was here working you were out having a rendez-vous with some pretty bimbo you met."

"It wasn't like that Lois."

"No, then what were you and you're "friend" (Lois made air quotes with her hands) doing."

"I took him to lunch and we talked, not that it's any of your business."

"Him? I didn't know Clark."

"Lois, go away. I really don't need this."

"Sorry Kent, I was just . . . what's wrong with you anyway?"

"I'm worried about my friend."

"What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know, and that's part of the problem."

"And people say I'm nosy."

"This isn't me being nosy, Lois. I wouldn't mind if he didn't tell me something if I knew he was okay or if I knew he was talking with someone else about it. But he never talks to anyone about anything, and that's not healthy. I know he's going through something. I just wish he'd let me help him."

"Hmmm."

"Any advice?" asked Clark.

"My advice, just stay on him. Treat it like a news story and don't give up. However, be prepared that you might not like the story you get." Having said that, Lois walked away from Clark's desk.

Clark took Lois' advice. He decided to interview some sources, so he called Alfred.

"Hello, Wayne Manor," answered an old British voice.

"Hello, Alfred? It's Clark Kent," said Clark.

"Hello Mr. Kent. I'm afraid Master Bruce isn't here."

"I actually wanted to talk with you, Alfred."

"Me, sir? Whatever for?"

"Well, it's about Bruce."

"What about Master Bruce?"

"Have you noticed any strange behavior from him recently?"

Alfred paused for a few seconds then answered, "Why do you ask Mr. Kent?"

"Well, I've been kind of worried about him recently. No one's seen him in a while and, well, it seems to me like something is bothering him. Of course, he won't tell me what it is, but I was hoping maybe you could shed some light on the situation. Have you noticed anything different in his behavior?"

"To be perfectly honest Mr. Kent, Master Bruce has been acting rather strangely. However, he hasn't confided anything in me."

"Well, could you tell me when you started to notice his strange behavior?"

"It was probably a month ago. I'd say it was around the time you all broke up that crime ring."

"Really, alright, thank you Alfred."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be any more help, Mr. Kent."

"Don't apologize Alfred, you've helped more than you know."

"Mr. Kent, might I ask what you think is bothering Master Bruce?"

"I really don't know Alfred, but I do intend to find out."

After Clark finished with Alfred he called Dick Grayson, formerly known as, Robin the Boy Wonder, now also known as Nightwing.

"Hello."

"Hello, may I please speak with Dick Grayson?" asked Clark.

"This is him."

"Hello Dick this is Clark Kent. Do you know me?" asked Clark. Clark wasn't sure what, if anything, Bruce had told Dick about him. There was no sense in blabbing his secret identity unnecessarily, so Clark decided to play it safe.

"Sort of. You report for the Daily Planet in Metropolis, right?"

"Right, but I'm actually calling on a personal matter."

"Personal?"

"It's about Bruce Wayne."

"Oh, what about Bruce?"

"Well, Bruce is a friend of mine and I've been concerned about him."

"Concerned? Why? Is he sick?"

"No, well he has some broken ribs that are healing, but that's not why I'm concerned. I'm convinced something important is bothering him but . . ."

"But he won't say a word about it."

"Exactly," said Clark. There was a long pause in the conversation. Clark was just about to ask if Dick was still on the line when Dick spoke.

"Mr. Kent?"

"Yes," said Clark, there was a very brief pause in the conversation.

"Red and blue, right?" asked Dick. This time it was Clark's turn to pause as he processed the hidden message.

"Yes."

"Mr. Kent . . ."

"You can call me Clark."

"Clark, I know better than anyone how tight lipped Bruce can be, and to be honest we haven't had much contact recently. Not enough for me to know what's going on with him. But I can give you some advice on how to deal with it."

"That would be great."

"Bruce doesn't respond well to direct questioning. You've got to let him know you understand something's wrong without saying it directly. He's a hard man to figure out, but if he wants you to understand, he'll let you."

"Thank you, Dick."

"No problem. Bye Mr. Ke . . . bye Clark."

"Goodbye Dick."

Clark hung up the phone and thought about what Dick said. Perhaps he had been going around this the wrong way. Clark was used to open communication. He had a great relationship with his parents and friends, but he understood that this was not the only way to communicate. Bruce was sometimes called the Detective. Maybe the secret to opening him up was deciphering what little clues he left. It wasn't going to be easy, but Clark knew it was worth it.

Meanwhile, Bruce was becoming even more distant. Not only had anyone not seen nor heard from Batman, but Bruce Wayne started missing days at the office. He spent most of his time locked up in his room. Now, more people were worried about him, but the billionaire remained silent and withdrawn when questioned. After weeks of investigating what might be upsetting Bruce, and more weeks of unreturned phone calls and e-mails, Clark paid Bruce a visit.


	8. Chapter 8

Bruce was locked up in his bedroom, still in bed at 1:30 in the afternoon. Clark knocked and asked to come in and talk with Bruce. Bruce gave no answer. After about fifteen minutes of bargaining with nobody, Clark forced the door open. He had enough control over his super strength to force open the lock without breaking the door down. However, the lock was destroyed. Clark went to Bruce's side and pulled back the covers. Bruce's hair was disheveled and there was some stubble on his chin. Bruce turned away from Clark.

"Bruce, what's wrong?" asked Clark.

Bruce still refused to answer. He only stared off into space as if Clark were not even in the room.

"Bruce I'm worried about you," said Clark.

Still, there was no answer.

"Bruce, does this have something to do with the night we busted the Reigning Skulls?"

Bruce didn't answer, but a brief pained expression in his face and an attempt to cover his head with a pillow was enough to clue Clark in.

"What happened that night?"

There was still no answer from the now covered figure. Clark took the pillow from over Bruce's head. Bruce moved on to his stomach with his head in folded arms. Clark was becoming frustrated. He remembered what Dick said about Bruce's non-responsiveness to direct questioning, but now did not seem like the time for games. Something was really the matter and Clark didn't like the toll it was taking on Bruce. However, Clark did not have a lot of options, so he decided to take the roundabout route.

"Fine, you don't have to tell me anything, just give me some sign that you're okay. If I know that you're okay, I swear I'll drop the whole thing," said Clark.

Bruce did nothing.

_So he's not okay,_ Clark thought to himself. Clark spoke in a hushed tone. "You know Bruce, whatever this is, I'm sure you're getting too upset over it. You're a perfectionist, but not everything can work out perfectly. As a matter of fact, most things don't work out perfectly. You can't let that bother you."

There was still no response from Bruce.

_God, this is like talking to a wall._ Clark didn't know what to do and he was getting frustrated. "Dammit Bruce, talk to me, do something, say something. Tell me to mind my own business, throw me out, just do something!"

There was still no answer from Bruce. He didn't even stir.

"Fine, we'll just stay like this then. I'll sit here and you'll lie there and we'll just stay like this for the rest of our lives."

Bruce arose onto his arms with a look of despair. His eyes ran across the room as if he were looking for something. He was also looking through Clark as if he wasn't there. Clark feared for his friend's sanity.

Clark lightly touched Bruce's arm and said, "What is it Bruce? What's wrong?"

Now tears were running down Bruce's face, but he wasn't sobbing. "Where's my pillow?"

"What?" asked a surprise Clark.

"My pillow. The blue pillow, I couldn't find it. I don't know where it is, and I can't find it."

"It's okay Bruce. You can use this one," Clark presented Bruce with the pillow he had recently taken from over his head.

"No, that's not the blue one. I have to find it."

"Why?"

"I have to find it."

"Okay, okay, I'll help you look. Where'd you last see it?"

"I don't remember." Bruce was beginning to get really upset. "I don't remember, and I have to find it. I can't find it, and . . . and . . . I can't find it . . . and I need it."

"It's okay Bruce we'll find it."

"I can't find it, and I can't . . . I can't do anything, anymore."

"Of course you can."

"No. I do . . . everything I touch . . . I do it wrong."

"That's not true. You hardly do anything wrong, Bruce."

"I messed up."

"No you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

"How did you mess up?"

Bruce didn't answer.

"Bruce, please talk to me. I know something is going on, but . . . Bruce look at yourself. You're absolutely miserable, and everyone who loves you is miserable too. Bruce please, you have to trust someone. I don't know what's going on with you, but it's obviously killing you, and I just can't stand watching it anymore. Bruce please talk to me, please."

"I killed someone."

"What!"

"I killed someone," Bruce said again.

"What happened? When?"

"The . . . it was one of the Reigning Skulls."

"He attacked you?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what happened Bruce."

"I was checking through the building."

"With Wonder Woman?"

"We split up. I found a laptop with . . . names. Skull members I think. This person hit me from behind. I spun around, he pulled a gun on me and he shot. I moved out of the way and he hit the computer, then I knocked the gun out of his hands. Then he tried to punch me, but I moved. I did a roundhouse kick, but I kicked him into a piece of metal. It went . . . it impaled him. He screamed, then he fell over sideways, but he fell into the window. The window was open. We were so high up on that cliff, he fell into the water, and he was gone."

"Bruce why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know. It happened so quickly I . . . I wasn't even certain it happened. That's not true. I knew it happened. I didn't know . . . I . . ."

"It's okay, but it was an accident, wasn't it?"

"Of course."

"Then you shouldn't feel guilty, Bruce."

"I murdered someone. I took their life."

"No, someone attacked you and you defended yourself and something terrible happened. But you're not to blame."

"You're only saying that because we're friends."

"I am your friend and I care about you, but that doesn't mean I'm delusional. Anyone would agree with me."

"I wouldn't."

"You're too hard on yourself. You're always too hard on yourself."

"Someone died Clark."

"That's terrible, but you aren't a murderer, and if you want me to condemn you that's not going to happen.

"I expected you of all people to be more horrified by this."

"Why?"

"You're just . . . you value human life."

"And you don't?"

"Of course I do, but . . . I don't know."

"Bruce, you're not a murderer."

"I can still see the look on that man's face when that thing went through him. His scream, I have nightmares about it. I've seen too much death in my time. The faces . . . dead faces . . . it's . . . awful."

Clark put his arm around Bruce.

"Everything is going to be okay Bruce. I promise."

"Are you going to tell the others about this."

"No, not if you don't want me to."

"I still don't think I'll be joining you up there for a while."

"You should come up and do some maintenance on the computers and stuff. I'm sure you'll get back into the groove of things. We need you up there. We miss you," said Clark.

"I'm just afraid if I tried to go on a mission, and I was too hesitant, someone could get hurt. I wouldn't mind if it was just me, but I wouldn't want to put the others at risk."

"None of us do. You know, I think that's everyone's worst fear. That they'll do something or not do something and it will lead to someone getting hurt."

"It's a reasonable fear," said Bruce.

"Yeah," said Clark, "I'm going to stay for the night."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. I want to make sure you're okay, so don't even try and stop me."

"I won't. I thought I was determined."

"You are. Where do you think I learned it from?" said Clark with a smile.

Bruce was still in no mood to smile, but he appreciated the gesture.

"Are you hungry, Bruce?" asked Clark.

"No, but I think I should eat something. I can't remember the last thing I ate."

"Good, then I'll cook for you."

"You can cook?"

"Of course. My mom wouldn't let me leave the farm without teaching me something. So what's your pleasure?"

"Anything that doesn't taste like Styrofoam is fine with me."

"Perfect. One Styrofoam free breakfast, coming up."

"Thank you, Clark."

"I haven't made you anything yet."

"That's not why I was saying thank you."

"Oh, well, you're welcome. You're really important to me Bruce, you know that?"

"I guess I do."

"Good. I'm gonna go make breakfast."


End file.
